


Machines of Loving Grace

by Geist



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Anal, Anal Beads, Anal Play, Anal Plug, Bodyguard, Breast Massage, Breast Pumps, Breasts, Business Trip, Chatlogs, Chatting & Messaging, Chauffeurs, Chubby, Dildos, Fantasizing, Fucking Machines, Light Bondage, Limousines, Lingerie, Lube, Lube Enema, Masturbation, Nipple Play, Nipple Pumps, Orgasm, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Restraints, Safewords, Servants, Sex Toys, Sexual Fantasy, Showers, Stripping, Suits, Teasing, Vaginal, Vibrators, wet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-15 06:31:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4596462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geist/pseuds/Geist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How does the stressed out and time-starved CEO of CrockerCorp get her rocks off? With the very latest in cyber-erotic technology, of course, designed for her by her genius gadgeteer of a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Machines of Loving Grace

GG: STRESSED! >:(  
TT: Ow.  
TT: My fucking textual ears. Good thing I’m not the autoresponder, or he’d have had his poor little logic circuits blown out by that level of capslockery.

Ugh. Jane Crocker had barely even realised she’d hit the all caps button. She whacked it again, and rubbed her temples, conjuring up a more equitable response.

GG: Sooorrrrrryyy :B  
GG: It’s just been one heck of a day.  
GG: Work work work work. Ms. Crocker, these expansion plans need your authorisation. Ms. Crocker, we just need you to pick out a design. Ms. Crocker please solve ALL THE PROBLEMS.  
GG: Hoooo boy.  
GG: At least the new digs are pretty fancy.

There were at that, she thought, reclining in a computer chair that looked as though it’d taken a whole herd of cows to upholster and threatened to swallow her if she moved too much. Everything in her life was luxurious. Her options for leisure during her free time had exploded. Jiminy Christmas, her penthouse had a bowling alley and a big screen theatre! But her free time itself had dwindled to nearly nothing. The workload that had dropped on her, not unexpectedly, but certainly from a great height, was immense.

TT: So suffice it to say that running the insidious global corporation formerly controlled by a fucking evil alien tyrant queen hasn’t been the barrel of giggles and hoopla you thought it would?  
TT: Whoulda thunk it.  
GG: No, it has not been a barrel of giggles and hoopla.  
GG: Frankly I can’t wait until I can just dismantle the whole shebang and turn the bits over to someone else.  
TT: In the meantime, Janey, I might just have something to chase away those workaday blues.  
GG: Hm?  
TT: As you might be aware, I like to dabble in things mechanical, electronical and programmatical. Clank together the odd cog and gear, solder the odd circuit.  
GG: I think you’ve mentioned it being one of your interests. Once or twice.  
TT: Well, I recently constructed something in the way of an Ultimate Relaxation Device.  
GG: Ultimate relaxation device?  
TT: The capitals are essential.  
GG: Oh, sorry. Ultimate Relaxation Device?  
TT: Yes! It’s something in the nature of a personal massage couch, fully reconfigurable, with attachments and accessories for a myriad of purposes.  
GG: Waaaaait a minute.  
GG: This is a sex thing, isn’t it?  
TT: You wound me.  
GG: Dirk…  
TT: There may be a sexual element.  
GG: I knew it.  
TT: But consider this: if you were to use it, purely for the purposes of blowing of that lethally pressurised head of steam you must have built up by now, with me, the most fucking same-sex oriented dude who ever oriented, as your humble operator…  
TT: ...would it truly be a sex thing?

Jane thought about it. Head of steam was right. Pretty much every bedtime now saw her squirming in bed, hands under her nightie, making such a mess of her sheets that she was always embarrassed to let the housekeepers in in the morning. It wasn’t like the job let her date, either. Hell, not that she even needed that, strictly. One call could have a bevy of boys crowding her room, in whatever kind of numbers and combinations she desired. That was one of her favourite fantasies; she saw herself surrounded by her concubines, hard muscle and hard cocks. She could reach out, explore them with her hands and her mouth, or she could spread herself, bend over, put her hands up against the wall - any position she wanted - and have them take her, roughly or sweetly, depending on her whim.

She wondered then, why she’d never put the call through to her concierge, or just rang the escort service herself. Maybe it was the old-fashioned gal in her. Maybe she really needed to know someone before she slept with them. But a machine, and a man who was totally uninterested in her body...that could work. She typed.

GG: Y’know, I think it would be, no getting around it.  
GG: But perhaps it doesn’t really matter. Let’s bust that steam gasket wide open! :B  
TT: So to speak.

***

The limo swooshed to a stop outside Dirk’s high-rise. By dint of long argument and much passive-aggressive, unnecessary door-opening, Jane had been trained to wait for her chauffeur to get the door, which he did with an obsequious nod. She stepped out, resplendent in the sharpest of business blazers and trousers so black they sucked at the eyeball. To her driver, her bodyguards, her PA, her social secretary - in fact, to every single person with their noses permeanently poked into her life, this was nothing more than an informal, after-hours business meeting, and she’d dressed the part.

Speaking of flunkies, the aforesaid bodyguards climbed out of the car after her, their heads turning left and right as if on bearings.

“Okay, boys,” she said to them, “take five.”

“Ma’am…?” they said, not sounding at all happy.

“I mean it. Skedaddle. Go see a movie or something. I’ll call you when I want picking up.”

They frowned, but Jane stood firm, and eventually they retreated back into the car and headed off, no doubt just around the nearest corner, maintaining their vigil through satellites and tiny, undetectable drones. Jane shook her head. Spending every waking hour of your existence at the beck of another. What a way to live.

She made for the apartment block. Inside the lobby, a security camera whirled around, staring glassily at her. No doubt it was already under the control of her security division, with the feed transmitted live to her guardians. The same was true of the one in the elevator, but when she alighted at Dirk’s floor, the one on the landing just kept up its usual slow, sweeping pan. She guessed that the cameras up here were under Dirk’s aegis, and even Roxy would’ve had trouble breaking through his security.

Further evidence for him peeping through that lens emerged when, upon knocking on his door, it opened at the first tap of her knuckles. There he stood, leaning on the door frame, a whiplike string-bean in a white shirt and skinny black jeans.

"Hey," he said. "There's my main Jane far-from-plain, all dolled up and with one place to go. Here to transact..." His eyes, just visible behind his dumb pointy anime shades, flicked up and down her, taking in her power-dressy outfit. He concluded: "... some business?" 

"That depends, Mr. Strider. If what you've got interests me, then maybe I'll go for a piece of the action."

He laughed, and pushed himself upright, stepping back from the threshold. "Come on in, Janey."

He kept on chattering away as he shut the door behind her and led her down a short hallway into his capacious living room. 

"As for what kind of business...hardware! And yes, I'm aware of the skeeze factor possibilities of that word. Rest assured that my particular proclivities mean that even in the presence of your awesome, nay, bodacious bod, my own personal ware will remain resolutely soft."

"Deep breath, Dirk. We wouldn't want you conking out after a speech like that. And it's your so-called relaxation machine that has me worried, not your 'ware'. Goodness knows what kind of mechanical monstrosity you've concocted. "

"See for yourself."

Dirk ushered Jane across the room to another door. Theatrically, he swung it open. 

The light clicked on automatically: another small demonstration of Dirk's technical prowess, as if she needed it. But that was far from the main attraction. Sitting in the middle of the tool-strewn, bare-floored workshop was an outrageous contraption. It looked something like a motorbike, but motorbikes didn't have arm and leg rests. Nor did they hump up in the middle, and only a few of them were upholstered in the kind of garish red-orange material that this device was. Most of all, they were never equipped with spindly, multiply-jointed armatures holding a sex shop's worth of the lewdest implements Jane had ever clapped eyes on. And Jane knew lewd instruments. She had a whole sock drawer full of them. 

"It's - it's something else!"

"Ain't she a beauty?" He went over to it and slapped the saddle. 

"Looks more like a he to me," said Jane, following him. "All those...protuberances." She put her hand on the upholstery. The material was like leather, or plastic imitating leather, but smoother and sleeker than either. It was warm, too: matched so perfectly to her body temperature that she could barely feel any difference. 

"Soft," she said. "I bet it's comfy to lie on."

“Of course! And more than that...well, you’ll find out if you still want to take a ride.”

“Darn straight I want to take a ride. If anything can give my rump the roistering it needs, it’s this doohickey!”

“That’s the Crocker spirit of adventure I like to see.” Dirk paused, then continued, impassive. “Well, if you’re going to get on, you’ll need to be-”

“Naked? No problem.” Jane opened her blazer, slipped it off her shoulders and flung it away. “God, it feels good to be out of that.” She kicked off her shoes (flat-heeled, despite how much her stylist had begged) and shucked her outerwear as quickly as she could. Down to her scanties, she hesitated. But what were two more scraps of black lace? Reaching behind herself, she unclasped her bra and peeled it away, spilling out her hefty breasts, with their big, dark nipples and circular patches of goose-pimpled areolae. Finally, off came her knickers, her panties, over her wide hips and luscious arse.

“There,” she said. “Now what?”

“Climb aboard,” Dirk said. “Your arms go here,” he pointed at the armrests, then at their siblings at the opposite end of the machine, “And your legs there.”

A handy step mounted on the machine’s side helped her to climb up and swing her leg over it. Her arms and legs found grooves in their rests that felt as though they’d been cut just for her, while a chinrest kept her head comfortably held up and the central hump supported her middle. Her hindquarters, raised as they were, felt very exposed, but she ignored that and concentrated on what Dirk had to say next.

“Okay, there’s straps to hold you in place,” he said. “You can go without them buuuut I’m not gonna lie. It’s gonna get pretty fucking intense. Plus the machine can adjust itself better if it knows exactly where you are.”

“Do it,” Jane said.

“The instant you want out, you say ‘red’, got it?”

“Got it, red,” she confirmed.

Dirk crouched beside her and extracted a padded cuff from a hidden recess in the armrest. He wrapped it around her wrist, and fastened it with a crackle of velcro. The cuff was so soft Jane almost couldn’t feel it, but when she tried to tug herself out of it it held as fast as any manacle. The strand of rubber connecting it to the machine let her pull her arm away for a couple of centimetres, then gradually, the resistance built until she was forced to slump back down onto the armrest.

“Comfy?” Dirk asked as he secured her other hand.

“So far, she said, and thus reassured, he went to work on her ankles. His fingers were quick and dexterous, almost clinical, but she could feel the warmth and care he was lavishing on her. With both her legs strapped in, he stood up, leaving her utterly immobilised but feeling more relaxed than she had in weeks.

“Now for the fun part.” A bundle of cables trailed over the floor, where they joined a DJ’s booth of switches, dials and LEDs. Jane could have sworn there was even a turntable.

Dirk flipped some switches, and the machine lurched into life. Hydraulics hissed, capacitors whined and the arms surrounding Jane moved through graceful, swooping test runs, their various attachments buzzing and whirring. The entire thing began to shrink. It drew in on itself like a precision-engineered concertina, and the better to fit Jane’s short stature. At the same time, the central ridge stretched upwards to raise her bottom higher. It even found a way to accommodate the fulsome swell of her belly, and spread her knees farther apart for good measure.

“How you feeling?” Dirk asked.

“Like I’m floating,” said Jane, dreamily. “‘Fess up, you stole my measurements and made this just for me, didn’t you?”

“Well, it did just take your measurements. IR laser grid. But it can fit itself to anyone. I’m just that good. And we ain’t done yet.” He pressed a button. “Starting slow. If the guest of honour has any requests, just let the FMC know.”

“FMC?”

“Fucking Machine Controller, of course.”

Jane snorted, then gasped. With robotically perfect stealth, an arm had swung round behind her and pressed a vibrator to her snatch. It felt like her own massage wand, with a big, softly rubberised head that spread a low rumble across the entirety of her mound. It felt heavenly, and she didn’t even have to tire out her arm holding it in place.

Just as she opened her mouth to beg for more, Dirk ramped up the power, and directed the arm to push down harder.

“Amplitude,” he said, flicking up a slider, and the vibration became a pounding, grinding, ultra-fast pulse.

“Frequency,” Down went a knob, slowing the wand until it merely twitched against her every second or so, then back up, further up, making it less a vibration and more a constant, undifferentiated throb. Jane squealed and writhed against her straps, her rear rising and falling as she simultaneously tried to pull away from the vibe and rut harder against it. Her pussy was already dripping. It drooled down her legs and she wondered how long she’d been storing up all that. Ever since she saw the machine, she bet.

“Waveform, modulation.” Now the speed and power rose and fell, smoothly, but with rhythmic irregularities, as if Dirk was pumping music straight into her quim.

“I’ve got your heartbeat here, Janey. Got your body temp, all those little physiological responses. Let’s find out what you like.” And he let loose with a barrage of pure electronic tones, transmitted through the wand, a solo concert for an audience of one. Jane screamed as the intensity swelled to the point where she almost couldn’t take it, and sobbed as it dropped, becoming a maddening buzz, an unscratchable itch that teased but wasn’t nearly enough to get her where she needed to go.

Dirk slapped another button. Now the arm began to move, pitching and yawing the toy, never letting Jane guess the next angle of attack. It’d favour one lip then the other, move up to play against her hole, down to judder her clit. She yowled, thrashing so violently that the machine had to engage its hydraulics for a moment and rebalance itself. Her entire body resonated with that silent (or almost silent) beat, internal muscles clenching, the fibres of her being straining, head foggy and full of music. She opened her mouth and took a deep breath.

Sound meters spiked. Jane’s orgasm was a zap: one solid whack of pleasure that announced itself in a wail from her mouth and a geyser of juice from her pussy. It hit so suddenly that even Dirk’s monitors were surprised, setting up a bleeping chorus of digital confusion.

“A little premature, huh?” Dirk said, withdrawing the wand and tapping a new sequence into his console.

“Don’ care,” Jane said, muffled, her face slumped into the headrest. “Hooooo boy. Criminy. Amazing.” Her muff was still throbbing. It felt hot, puffy and sticky, eminently ready for more, and she longed to reach back and stick a couple of fingers in. On the other hand, just lying there was so very relaxing.

“Ready for the next act?” Dirk asked, and a new set of arms manouevered into place.

“You can do whatever you want to me,” Jane said with a slow smile. “I trust you.”

“You won’t be fucking disappointed.” He thumped a big red button, and the machine went to town on her.

The next implement was a dildo, vibrating, naturally, and beautifully textured, with whorls and ridges in perfectly engineered patterns. At first it just touched its tip to her folds, and she thought it was a variation on the massager, albeit more focussed and directed. She felt a tension in her belly as it brushed her jewel, emitting fluttering buzzes that were barely there. Then it moved up to her opening, and kept on moving. Jane huffed as it wriggled round the edges and amped up its power, until at last the arm drove it into her.

It slipped in like a dream, gliding on its own vibration and her copious moisture, and came to rest nestling neatly between her walls. She squeezed down on it, all the better to get those lovely vibes titillating her sweet spots. The arm held it there, doing the slow increase and decrease thing the wand had, only this time the lows weren’t quite as low and the highs were much higher.

Jane had almost gotten used to it when the arm moved. It dragged the dildo out of her, sent it slithering back in, then did the exact same thing. Jane held her breath for a third, but nothing came.. Just two strokes, as if to a sudden beat that only the machine could hear. Which, she assumed, was exactly the case. Again the double-stroke, sooner this time, forcing her forward with a gasp. Another, even quicker, and another after that, two merging into four, four into six, then she couldn’t tell how many any more. The machine was away, doing what it said on the tin and fucking her she wanted. The arm moved like the piston on a steam train, clicking and whirring while the dildo pounded her, reamed her, filled her with the friction-heat of a good hard screwing.

Jane’s position let her drift easily into a favourite fantasy, one about being taken from behind, over and over, by an endless succession of cocks. She was still sunken in her reverie when she felt something push into and against her arsehole. It was slender and streamlined, hardly there at all, but it was enough that she let out a yelp of surprise. As if that wasn’t enough, suddenly it squirted something warm and gooey into her. Her innards spasmed at the sudden flood, but the warmth kept her from cramping. The device pulled out and squirted another stream between her cheeks before it retreated.

“Dirk!” she gasped out. “What the-!”

“Lube enema,” he explained, “To get you nice and slippery where slipperiness tends not to abide.”

“Butt stuff? I don’t know - no, I said I’d trust you, and I will.”

“Atta girl.” He flipped another set of switches, and a new toy butted up against her slick pucker. It was round and smooth, about the size of a big marble and, Jane learned as her ring stretched wide and then closed around it, the shape of one too. A bead, she realised, which logically meant a string of them.

She was proven right when the next one plopped in, and the next, and the next, each successive bead pushing its predecessor further up her. She tried to count them, but lost track pretty quickly. Between the glorious pounding of the dildo and the hypnotic quality of her rectum swallowing up those little baubles, numbers were not high on her list of priorities.

The string finished with a plug, bigger than the beads. Jane grit her teeth as it settled into place, the flared base pushing apart her cheeks, her arsehole closing around its neck. She should have guessed what was going to happen next. The arm holding the toy retreated, and, like everything else so far, the beads turned out to vibrate. Individually, too; the deepest one buzzed with untrammelled fury, rattling against places she couldn’t normally feel, while the plug just tickled her sensitive sphincter. The vibrations, as with the dildo and the massager, turned out to be variable, and with the turn of a dial, Dirk set the strongest one rippling down the string, jumping from bead to bead, wavelike, 'til it hit the plug and bounced straight back into her.

"Oooooh! Dirk, that's..."

"Exquisite? Sublime? An earth-shatteringly good diddling. I knew you were an anal fiend."

Jane didn't have anything sensible to say to that. The dildo kept on screwing away, mingling the pleasure of a well-stuffed hole with the weirder, wilder sensation of well...another well-stuffed hole. But a different one. Her fantasy returned, her imaginary stream of men rocking her socks like they'd never been rocked. Only now they each had two dicks. And one was a string of butt beads. Whatever. It was all good. It was all very, very good.

Her numinous lovers lost one of their cocks for a second, as at Dirk's command the dildo pulled out of her, only to be replaced by something much bigger and floppier. Jane bore down on it as it drilled it's way into her, delighted to find that it was almost gelatinous in its consistency, and squished so satisfyingly against the ridges of her walls. There was no vibration this time, but as she squeezed harder she found there was an internal solidity to it, and a delicious texture that rubbed her just the right way, such that the more muscle power she put in, the more she got out. It was one heck of a kegel exercise, she decided, and wondered if that was the point. A rounded nub brushed against a particularly delicate spot. She moaned a shuddering moan, and resolved to really pump iron. Or silicone.

Jane was concentrating on flexing when the massager returned, this time focussed solely on her clit. The power was lower, and the head had been replaced with something bigger and softer, the better to spread the vibrations, but it was enough to throw her off her stroke and make her take a sharp breath. She could practically feel her poor little button being jangled under its hood, and strained at her restraints, desperate to close her legs and either shut the wand out or keep it held there. Naturally, she stayed spread as wide as she'd ever been, completely vulnerable to the machine's depredations. And what amazing depredations they were, she thought, as a fresh surge of ecstasy jolt up her spine and her stomach hatched a fresh batch of fluttering butterflies.

While her sensorium was distracted down below, stranger things were happening up top. A portion of the machine opened up, and her breasts drooped into the newly revealed space.

"Eh!?" She twisted to, look, and out of the corner of her eye saw two clear plastic cups rising up, enveloping her breasts. They latched on to them in an almost organic way, with wide, rubbery seals that squeezed and suckled at those soft udders.

"Total relaxation," Dirk said. "Boobs included."

"Oh. Oh my, they're sucking. Mmmm..."

The cups drew tighter, and their seals moved under their own power. They changed shape, rubbed Jane's tits with miniature fingertips that constantly morphed and flowed.

"Memory plastic." Dirk never could resist a technical lecture. "Put a current through it, it becomes any shape you want."

"C-Crockercorp could use something like that."

"I'm not selling. Not when I've got the wicked batterwitch herself right here in my clutches." And in a flurry of button-pushing and switch-flipping, he goaded his machine into a frenzy. 

Armatures swooped over and around Jane. The big dildo dragged itself out of her, replaced by a clever little fellow that whirred and wriggled on rings of counter-rotating beads, bumping the edges of her hole with those while the tip probed at her. It traced out spirals along her walls, crazed circles dragged out and pushed in by the pumping of its armature. Every so often it surprised her by switching direction, turning one way then the other, or constantly moving in a semicircle, leaving one half of her vagina satisfied while the other tingled in need of its touch.

Eager to test out its huge arsenal of phalluses, though, the machine replaced that with another, and another, driving dildo after dildo into her gaping pussy. Each one was a fresh taste of pleasure, and there were so many, in all kinds of materials and textures: plastic, rubber, silicone, ridged or smooth or bumpy. There were stainless steel hooks and dongs, cool and weighty inside her, and weirder types, including what felt like glossy stone and warm, polished wood. In one particularly shocking moment, there was the frigid lick of a flash-frozen ice cock, that in one swift thrust drew all the heat out of her tunnel and made her shriek and shudder. As if in compensation, the next was covered in that same hot lube that'd been squirted up her arse, and it was boiling in comparison.

Jane rocked under the machine's force, moaning, whining, her whole body tense and tingling. Her hands were balled into fists, her toes were curled and clenched together. Even despite the cups suctioning her tits, they swayed violently, and perhaps it was that, or maybe just electronic whim that made the machine do what it did next.

Nozzles emerged from the cups' air hoses, and misted Jane's breasts with something like a spray-on heat rub. It wicked into her skin and lit up her nerves, until a deep glow suffused her breasts. The nozzles disappeared, and a set of rollers appeared, a pair for each tit. They assembled themselves inside the cups, pressed themselves to her boobs and squeezed inwards, roving up and down in perfect synchronicity. They were covered it stiff, rubbery bristles, and their tickling, brushing effect joined the melange of sensations rampaging through Jane.

Between the rollers' slender supports, miniature versions of the cups rose up and glommed on to Jane's nipples, sucking with even greater power than their parents. Circular ligaments of Dirk’s memory plastic expanded and and contracted, rippling the sucker like a feeding jellyfish.Blood swarmed to the vessels just below her skin and throbbed with her heartbeat, while the muscles beneath reacted, pulling her nips into swollen erection. Her areolae grew even puffier; their pimpled skin turned a deep pink.

Straining with and against the machine, panting, her lips slick with drool (as much as the ones down below), Jane screamed and wailed, pleaded for more and greater stimulation. Her legs spasmed in their bonds, the closest she could get to kicking them, while her biceps stood out on her arms as she held them tensed. She groped blindly for her climax, knowing it was there in front of her, and all she needed was just one good kick.

Dirk knew all this. His invisible eyes scanned the dilation of her pupils, her body temperature, the counted the beats of her heart, even monitored the torrent of wetness gushing from her pussy. He held her on the edge, seconds for him, a torturous lifetime for her, and at exactly the right moment, he unleashed his most powerful weapon.

Two bullet vibes, oscillating so powerfully they were mere blurry purple blobs swung down, each gripped by a slender, spidery waldo. They closed in on Jane’s clit, inch by inch, millimetre by millimetre, and she felt the vortex of air they stirred up whisper past that most precious of all her parts. And without warning, they closed the distance.

Jane howled as if she’d had electrodes jammed into her bare flesh. It took only a second of contact for the vibrators to push her off the cliff, only a second to plunge her into a cauldron of seething white rapture. The dildo in her cunt slowed and stayed in, giving her pulsating walls something to cling to, while her arsehole clenched around its plug, the vibrations surging through her, pouring fuel into her orgasm. She rocked back and forth until the machine’s hydraulics cut in again, and finally, as the crisis passed and a series of tiny aftershocks rumbled across her, she slumped across it, leaning in to its soft embrace as she moaned weakly.

“Oh my,” she said, once her tongue seemed to be back in working order. “Oh Dirk, you know how to relax a gal.”

He smirked. “Maybe so, but there’s still some tension in those shoulders, if my scans are telling the truth. What say we go another round?”

Jane levered herself back up, fresh energy filling her. “Bring it on.”

***

Many, many rounds later, Dirk unstrapped Jane from the machine and led her, wobbly-legged and woozy to the shower. She stood under the hot jets, sluicing away sweat and heat rub and lube, the pressure of the water pounding what little tension remained out of her body. After she’d dried herself and stepped out of the bathroom, she found her clothes in a neatly folded pile outside the door.

She was pulling on her blazer when Dirk returned.

“There’s my hero,” she said, and gave him a peck on the cheek, at which, to her great amusement, he ever so slightly blushed.

“You know, I told my guys that I was attending a business meeting tonight. Do you think the negotiations were truly finalised?”

“For my part,” Dirk said, scratching his chin, “I think the machine could use a whole lot more fucking testing. Don’t you?”

“Fucking testing is right. It’s settled then. Next Friday?”

“Friday.”

“Right, I’d better call the car. They must be worried about little old me.”

Jane left the apartment, waved off by Dirk. In the elevator she leaned confidently against the wall, flexing her fingers, marvelling at how the stress seemed to have gone even from them. The doors opened, and she stepped out into the lobby. She left the building, loose, limber and utterly, ultimately relaxed. Just as it said on the tin.

**Author's Note:**

> A commission for someone with excellent taste who wishes to remain anonymous. All thanks to them! Follow me at geistygeist.tumblr.com for more.


End file.
